


Rolling Down This Road

by forgadgetsandgizmos



Series: Malex Week 2020 [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ambushes and Sneak Attacks, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Caulfield, Deep Sky, Fluff, Handcuffed Together, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Malex Week 2020, Sharing a Bed, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25268752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgadgetsandgizmos/pseuds/forgadgetsandgizmos
Summary: “If you keep sayin’ stuff like that, I’ll start to think we’re staring in our own comedy action film,” Michael remarked. The irony, though; an alien and a human, handcuffed together, speeding away in their getaway car (well, jeep, but same difference) as they made their daring escape from the shadowy government agency hunting them.“I think this would classify as sci-fi, actually,” Alex said wearily.—Or, Michael gets a handcuff-shaped excuse to cuddle with Alex (who just wants him to take this seriously, dammit).
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: Malex Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1829212
Comments: 14
Kudos: 123





	Rolling Down This Road

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Day 2 of Malex Week 2020 | Prompt: Trope Day
> 
> —
> 
> Not beta'd but hopefully I caught any mistakes. Enjoy!

“There’s a motel a few miles from here that pays by the hour, no questions. You can sleep the powder off until you can break these” —Alex jostled his left hand where it lay on the center consul, rattling the handcuffs binding it Michael’s right— “then we’ll ditch my jeep, steal a car, and drive somewhere we can buy a burner and call everyone to come pick us up.”

Michael scoffed at the vague plan, not taking his eyes off the road.

“It’ll work,” Alex snapped next to him. “Everything will be fine.” 

“Not for the poor sap whose car you’d have me steal.” 

“I don’t see you coming up with an alternative, do I? If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” Alex hissed indignantly. 

Michael let out a abrupt laugh at Alex’s childish retort, despite knowing the meaning behind it. Knowing that Alex handled his anger with sarcasm. An Alex making quips and clenching his handcuffed fist so tight it was pulling the metal around Michael’s was a terrified one. 

“If you keep sayin’ stuff like that, I’ll start to think we’re staring in our own comedy action film,” Michael remarked. The irony, though; an alien and a human, handcuffed together, speeding away in their getaway car (well, jeep, but same difference) as they made their daring escape from the shadowy government agency hunting them. 

“I think this would classify as sci-fi, actually,” Alex said wearily. 

Michael risked a quick glanced at Alex’s face just in time to see his lips twitch and suppressed his answering retort. Couldn’t argue with that. He pressed down harder on the gas, eager to etch out every last mile per hour this hunk of metal had to offer, not bothering to hide his grin. 

Thankfully, they hit the outskirts of the motel before running out of gas and were able to walk the last couple miles, albeit after a somewhat awkward experience having to climb out of the same side of the car due to the handcuffs. Michael had worried over abandoning the car, but they’d taken anything even slightly valuable, including Alex’s emergency hundred-dollar bill stashed in the glovebox. Michael found himself thankful that Alex could _afford_ to keep a hundred bucks stashed away, though Alex’s repeated assurances ( _This situation is exactly what the money is meant to be used, Michael_ ) didn’t make him feel any better about Alex paying for him. 

Michael had also worried over the jeep being tracked, but according to Alex, he watched too many actions movies and real life wasn’t like that. Their goal was to get back to Roswell, where they could rest and recruit backup. No such thing as going off the grid when the person hunting you was, at least in Alex’s case, your own flesh and blood and knew exactly where you lived and worked. 

Plus, an upside of his race being a massive government conspiracy? He couldn’t be arrested for it in public. 

“You still got the jacket?” Alex asked him when the flickering, rundown sign of the motel was in sight. “We should probably start using it now.”

Michael nodded and grabbed it off his shoulder, bunging it up and switching it to wrap around their clasped hands so that it covered the glistening metal binding them. That had been Alex’s idea too; better to be awkwardly holding hands and a jacket, risking a few judgmental looks, than to have anyone question why they were stuck in handcuffs. It was a relief to cover the metal (it had started to burn his skin a mile back) but the weight of the jacket made their hands, already slick from sweat under the burning desert sun, a furnace. Judging by Alex’s grimace, he felt the same. With him holding onto his metal crutch he’d brought but couldn’t use because of the handcuffs, he probably felt worse. 

“I’ll talk when we get up to the counter since I’ve got the money,” Alex said to him.

“No problem,” he answered, relieved. Michael was exhausted, and a midday hike under the prime heat of the desert sun wasn’t exactly mixing well with the effects of the yellow powder he’d practically suffocated on back in the warehouse. If it wasn’t for Alex’s support, he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to stand steadily enough that he wouldn’t raise alarm.

Content to let Alex take the lead, he tuned out Alex’s exchange with the desk worker, not bothering to pay attention again until he felt the heavenly burst of air conditioning from room Alex was ushering him in. He paused a couple steps in the doorway to let Alex close and lock the door behind them.

Michael glanced around the room, unimpressed. Faded yellow wallpaper riddled with cracks coated the walls, matched by plain gray, frayed carpet and a puke-green comforter on the bed. “Nice digs,” he remarked, eyeing a particularly suspicious yellow stain where a rubber barrier separated the carpet from the white, square tile of the bathroom. 

Alex didn’t respond, but a gentle tug on his wrist pulled Michael onto the bed, the springs moaning under their combined weight. The _only_ bed, Michael noticed. He raised an eyebrow at Alex, who scowled and lifted their hands, placing the chain in front of Michael’s face. 

“It’s not like we could’ve used a second one,” Alex said, letting their hands drop between them. “And a one-bed room was cheaper. The cash that was in my jeep is all the cash we got. A hundred bucks only goes so far. We still need to buy a burner phone and food, too.” 

Michael snorted. “You’re the boss.” 

“Why don’t you try to take a nap?” Alex suggested suddenly. “Hopefully when you wake up, you’ll be able to get us out of these.” 

Michael looked down at the bed and then up at Alex. Neither of them had turned on any lights when they came in and the curtains were still closed, but the thin fabric did little to block out the sun’s rays, making for a adequately lit room. Still, it was a room with a bed and a door with a lock, so he supposed he couldn’t be too picky.

But Alex— “What about your leg?” Michael asked, forehead lined with concern. His leg had to be hurting; he’d been limping after climbing three flights of stairs back in the warehouse, and that was _before_ finding the ambush that had been waiting for them. Not to mention the mile trek through the desert. 

Alex winced at the reminder. “I’ll be fine.” 

“You need to take off the prosthetic and let your leg rest,” Michael insisted, pulling up the cuff of Alex’s jeans.

Alex brushed Michael’s hand away before he could move it up any further. “And if someone barges in that door and I’m stuck on this bed with one leg, we die.” 

Michael was shaking his head before Alex could finish. “If someone comes in that door and I have my powers back, it doesn’t matter if you have your prosthetic on or not. If I don’t, well," —Michael tugged his wrist, hard, and Alex fell forward in Michael’s arms with a grunt— “we aren’t doing much fighting like this.” 

Alex just closed his eyes and fell back against the headboard, seemingly resigned to Michael’s point. 

“So,” Michael continued, “you may as well take that off so when I can get these handcuffs off, you can actually walk out of here.”

Alex still didn’t speak but took off his shoes and plopped them on the floor off the side of the bed. Michael took that as confirmation as followed suite before reaching over to help Alex pull his pants leg up enough to remove his prosthetic. When Alex finally pulled it off and laid it carefully on the floor next to his shoes, it was with a grimace and a stifled grunt, trying to hide the pain that Michael could see etched on his face. Alex had never had much luck hiding his feelings from Michael before and this wasn’t any different. 

Michael used his hands (well, hand, since one was functionally useless) to massage over the swollen skin under the slip, pressing deep to knead the skin when he found a knot and letting his fingers trace lightly over everywhere else. He ignored Alex’s sudden curse when he found a particularly large knot, pressing down harder. 

“Fucking _hell_ , Michael,” Alex grumbled. 

“Would you rather be sore tomorrow? You know how you get,” Michael reminded him. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Alex let Michael massage his leg for a few more minutes before cutting him off with a wave of his hand. “Okay, sleep now,” he insisted. “I’m fine. You need to get yourself back to full strength.”

Michael reluctantly pulled his hands away. Knowing Alex was right didn’t make it any easier to sleep, especially knowing how much pain he was in. He laid down on top of the comforter, unwilling to actually get underneath it, and rested his head on one of the flat pillows stacked against the headboard. He closed his eyes, not that it did much to block out the light and tried to get comfortable. 

He spent a few minutes trying not to move, but he could feel every place where the old springs dug into his back and the comforter scratched his skin where his skirt had pulled up in the back. It didn’t help that his right hand was stuck laying limply by his side where it was still being pulled by Alex, who had yet to lay down from where he sat on the edge of the bed. 

A sudden, sharp pinch on his rest was the last straw and his eyes flew open with a frustrated growl. “Alex, lay down,” he said, looking at the man. 

Alex blinked a few times as if shaking off a haze, then looked at him confused. 

Michael let out an exasperated sigh. “How am I expected to sleep when I can feel you over there practically radiating anxiety? And you’re pulling on my wrist,” he added as an afterthought. “Lay down with me. There’s no reason for you to need to be awake.” 

“Someone needs to keep watch; I can wake you up if anyone tries to come in.” 

“You said abandoning your jeep on the road wouldn’t matter because they couldn’t do anything in public.” Michael threw his free arm out wide in display. “This is pubic. No one’s getting through those doors without alerting everyone else here, including the desk worker. We’re fifty miles from Roswell, at least, no one would think to look here anyways.” 

Alex shot him a distinctly annoyed look that Michael ignored in favor of grabbing his shoulder with the intention of pulling him down on the bed beside him. Alex didn’t fight him and let himself be pulled until they laid on the bed, curled in towards each other in mirrored positions. 

“Isn’t that better?” Michael asked. 

“It’s stressful,” Alex answered, though his tone lacked any bite. 

Michael rolled his eyes and straightened out until his back was against the bed again. Alex fidgeted beside him, switching between his place on his side, his back, and trying to roll around the other way before having to stop when the handcuffs help him back.

“What’s wrong?” 

Alex mumbled something Michael couldn’t make out. 

“I can’t hear you.” 

“Laying on the side hurts my leg,” Alex repeated louder, tinged with annoyance. 

Understanding and a twinge of embarrassment at not realizing the issue filled Michael. “Okay, lay on your back,” he directed after thinking for a second. 

Alex obliged, lying flat against the bed the same way Michael had earlier. Michael scooched closer to Alex until he could loop his leg in between Alex’s thighs, then centered his right hip with Alex’s waist. He bent his leg back away from Alex, using the gap where Alex’s prosthetic usually is, and laid their bound hands on Alex’s shoulder. 

“Better?” he asked once he’d rested his head in the crock of Alex’s neck. He didn’t want to move (Alex made for a significantly better pillow than any of the actual pillows) and sent a prayer that Alex didn’t want to either. 

He felt Alex’s breathless chuckle rise against his chest before the man buried his head deeper into Michael’s hair with a content sigh. 

“I can’t believe you,” he muttered fondly. 

Feeling Alex’s cheek pressed into his curls and his thumb slowly brushing over his hand, skin cool against his own, Michael let the exhaustion carry him away.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos bring me joy (: 
> 
> Visit me on tumblr at [forgadgetsandgizmos](https://forgadgetsandgizmos.tumblr.com/)


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